


Drabbles

by Elrewin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 12,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elrewin/pseuds/Elrewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serie of drabbles in the world of Westeros. Requests accepted !</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jaime/Cersei

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a specialist of Jaime and Cersei, so this might be OOC. I hope not too much though.  
> The story takes place during the tournament of Harrenhal, at its beginning - so before Rhaegar mess up with Lyanna and the Crown of Love and Beauty thing.  
> Sorry if there is any mistakes.  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This is one of those nights where the world is silent, holding its breath, as if waiting for something to happen. Jaime hates it. His world is made to be full of noise, clamors of battlefields and neighing of horses fighting, shouts of men dying and living alike. Instead, only the lapping of the Gods Eye lake stirring gently under his feet echo his thoughts. He sighs. He had never been a man of patience.

The rustling of silken skirts behind him disturbs the silence, but he doesn’t turn. He knows who it is. He always does. It’s only when he hears rocks sliding that he takes a look, but Cersei gives him a glance that promesses him a world of pain if he dares try to help her. Finally she vaults next to him, far from the graceful lady she acts when she is in public.

"Why did you have to choose the most unreachable place of all Harrenhal ?" she complains, smoothing her dress with delicates hands - the same hands she used to make him cry out last night.

He smiles. Of course she would. He learned long ago that the world is not good enough for Cersei. She always wanted things to be like she wanted them to be. And when they were, that wasn’t enough.

"I don’t know," he answers to tame her fury. "I like it. It’s quiet and no one can come without me hearing it. And I can escape if you’re too annoying."

She punches him in the shoulder, but she doesn’t mean it. Not tonight.

"It’s true you always liked cliffs. Do you remember the time you jumped from the one in Casterly Rock ? You were so fearless."

"I especially remember you running tell Father. Or rather, my ass remembers it."

She chuckles. For a long time they say nothing, but it’s different from before. It’s always different with her. He observes as the wind plays with her hair, the blond curls flying behind her like a golden veil.

"Father is furious, you know," she confesses suddenly. "He wants to take me back to the Rock."

Jaime isn’t surprised. When he heard that King Aerys wanted to send him to King Landing to guard the Queen and her son, he had known his status as knight of the Kingsguard was only a slight against his lord father, a way to take his heir away from him. It wasn’t his martial skills or his reputation or even Cersei’s doings, like he had believed at first, that led him to this honor but the insane jealousy of an as insane king.

"I don’t want to go back." His sister’s voice is wet with tears still unleashed. It is odd. Cersei seldom cries. She fights and fights until she gets what she wants. But tonight, the air has a taste of resignation and despair.

"I want to stay with you. We were supposed to. You would have been a knight and I would have been Prince Rhaegar’s queen, and we would have been together our whole lives. Now when will we see each other again ?"

She is crying for real now ; and his heart breaks because he wants to comfort her, but himself has nothing to say. He was never a man of words.

So he answers by the only way he knows : action. When she raises her face to him, when he sees her beautiful green eyes, so much like his own, full of the same despair he feels, he crashes his lips on hers. It is not a kiss like the ones he usually gives. He’s always gentle and tender, partly because he would never hurt her but also because it amuses him to get her mad, to get her accuse him to try to soften her. “I’m not in sugar !” she yells, and she attacks him with the ferocity of a lioness on her prey. But this time he is not gentle nor tender ; he is a lion too, and his lips move savagely against hers, hungry with her, his tongue almost forcing his way into her mouth.

She gives him access easily though, and they are kissing like they never had, almost fighting. Their tongues battle in a dance as old as the world, but this time Jaime doesn’t want to step back like he usually does. He wants to dominate her, to mark her, to make her forget every man she had and will ever kiss.

He pushes her small body against his, pulls her into his lap. Cersei runs her hands in his hair, bringing him closer. She moans in his mouth when he grips one of her breast, firm and perky, when he kneads it like he owned it ; and he groans when he feels her nails like claws scratch against his scalp. He slides his hand under her skirt and snarl when he notices she is not wearing any smallclothes.

He is hard under his breeches, and he is sure Cersei can feel it ; the way she rocks her hips against it shows it. And he is more than eager to give it to her. But when a rock falls off in the water, he realizes a cliff is not the best place to fuck his sister.

This might be the last time they’ll be together, and Jaime doesn’t want to ruin it by dying.


	2. Daenerys/Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is an unusual pairing, but I wanted to do it anyway. You can choose your own ending !

Daenerys watched the girl talk with her older brother, her slender frame almost frail next to his.

« So, » she wondered, taking a slip of wine, « this is the face my brother started a war for. »

Barristan Selmy had told her the girl bore a striking ressemblance with her aunt, Lady Lyanna, even if she was more... savage than her kin. Deadly, some said. But she had a hard time believing it now, as she watched Arya Stark of Winterfell make faces to make her brother laugh.

 _She is pretty_ , she admited to herself, but it was a different kind of beauty than hers or Lady Sansa's, her sister. At first, she hadn't really paid attention to her. Her brown hair and pale skin were common enough in the North. But then she had noticed her deep grey eyes, like two pools of melting silver, full of mischief and ferocity ; the way she moved, fluid as water, with the same grace she had seen once in Mereen* ; and this aura of mystery that followed her wherever she went, like a riddle asking to be resolved. She had heard a lot of tales about this girl, some laughable, some frightening, and Daenerys suspected they were all true and false at the same time.

She wondered if Lyanna Stark had been this fascinating, for her brother thought he could abduct her. But where her niece was breaking hearts wherever she walked – the young heir of Starfall was thoroughly in love with her - , no man had still managed to capture hers.

It was when she caught her glancing in her direction that she suddenly understood why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Remember, when she is in Meereen Daenerys saw a fight with a water dancer.


	3. Ned/Catelyn

There were nights where Ned couldn't sleep. Nights where sleep was fleeing him like Rhaegar Targaryen's soldiers had after the war. Nights where memories were haunting him like unreachable ghosts, harassing him until dawn found him awake in his bed, fretting. Nights where the face of his sister floats before his eyes, bloody and fearful, whispering her last words over and over :

« Promise me, Ned... »

But those nights are rare these days. Time and love and peace healed him a little, and he can forget for a few hours the weight of his tragedy. But now, it is not because of nightmares that he can't be at rest.

The truth is his wife, the sweet and delicate Catelyn, picture of elegance and composure, snores like a drunken sailor.


	4. Family bonds (Arya, Rickon and Sansa)

She watches as her little brother plays with Sansa, burying his face in the smoothness of her skirts, raising towards her a face full of love nd admiration.

They are particulary close, these two, and that since Rickon has been brought back to them. Sansa is exasperated of his willfulness, sometimes a little bit afraid of his savagery but she keeps shovering him with kisses and love all the same. And he can't go to sleep without her telling him stories or singing softly ; even awake, he is never really far away from her.

He is less inclined towards Arya. She loves him, but she is the one that has to shout when his rage takes over, when even their sweet sister can't calm him down. She loves him, but she has to intimidate him enough to keep him from becoming as feral as his wolf. She loves him, but she has to make sure he'll become a good lord to their people.

Sometimes, when she sees them playing and cuddling and laughing, she feels a little bit hurt – and jealous, she must confess. But she understands. Sansa, with her long auburn hair, blue eyes and fine features, is the spitting image of their mother - even Arya gets confused sometimes, especially when her sister scolds her for something ; there, her expressions look remarkably like their mother's. But she reminds him of kinder times, when their family was whole and closely knit. Arya is the spitting image of their dead aunt and reminds him of nothing.

It makes her sad. She wishes they were closer, like she is with Bran or Jon. They're a family, and she wants above everyting them to be happy and united.

But her heart warms when she realizes that whenever Rickon is afraid or sad, it's her protection he seeks.


	5. Fatherhood (Arya & Ned)

She had kicked her furs off her again.

Ned picked them up, his boots making the lightest sound on the floor ; even if they hadn't, Arya wouldn't wake up anyway. She had the heavier sleep he had ever seen. An earthquake could happen that she would still sleep like a log.

Which didn't prevented her to stir in her bed like a restless pup, and every night he had to tuck her up a second time. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching his daughter's face move as she dreamed. Her dreams were usually full of life, of adventures like Old Nan was telling her and her brothers. Her face would contort with anger or joy or determination, and once or twice she had even hit him with a flying hand or a misplaced elbow.

But not tonight. Tonight she looked frightened, like when the thunder washed away her courage and she would run into his bed for protection. She was frowning, her lips trembling, and clutched her pillow as if it could protect her of whatever monster she was fighting. Ned stroke her hair, trying to smoothe her fears, but a sob escaped her lips. At the foot of the bed Nymeria rose her head, worried, and crawled closer to her mistress.

Suddenly she woke up, her eyes wild and terrified, looking around like she had no clue of where she was ; when she saw him though, she began to sob hysterically. He opened his arms and it was all he could do before she ran into them, burying her face in his jerkin and crying hard. He held her tight, gently stroking her hair and whispering comforting words in her ear. They stayed a long time like this, father and daughter, so close they seemed to be one entity instead of two.

Finally, her sobs lost their intensity and she could talk without sounding like a moose.

« I drea- I dreamed I was in a city with water around it, and I was alo-one there, and I was walk-walking and running but I couldn't go where I wanted. I wanted to go back here, to go back to you and M-Mother but I knew I couldn't, I wanted it so bad but you were gone. I was running and running, away from something, and when I looked back I saw a monster without a face, and he was trying to catch me but... »

She started crying again and he rocked her gently, waiting for her to calm down.

« Don't worry, he whispered, that was only a nightmare. I would never let that happen. I'll always be there to protect you. »

She raised towards him a face full of hope and fear, trying very hard to believe him.

« You promise ? »

He looked right into her eyes - grey eyes, the same as his own – and swore solemnly :

« I promise. »

Later this night, his words came back at him. He wasn't regretful. Deep in his heart, he knew he meant it. He would never let anything happen to his children.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I was almost crying when I wrote the end. I have so many Ned/Arya's feelings.


	6. Arya/Gendry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt with the constraint "Forehead kiss"

It's funny how composed she seems when she's asleep, whereas to be around her when she's awake is like being in the middle of a storm. She stays perfectly still, her breath less than a murmur, the picture of delicacy her mother always dreamed her to be. Her long dark hair are sprawled on the pillow, contrasting nicely with the whiteness of the fabric.

Some strands are falling across her face, one of them tucked at the corner of her mouth. He pulls it off, tucks it behind her ear. Without meaning it, his fingers starts to wander in her hair, feeling the softness his rough hands are not used to. He runs them on her forehead, her high cheekbones, her jaw ; he traces the contour of her lips, as lightly as the touch of a feather. He's careful not to wake her : he wants to enjoy this moment, when she is only his, when she doesn't become eager and presses him to go down with the business. He wants this to last.

He runs his hand on the roundness of a shoulder, explores the land of her ribs, rolls on the curve of a hip. He is tempted to go further, to let his fingers slip where he knows she won't let him go. But he holds himself ; _not yet_ , he whispers. Instead, he slips them back in her hair, brings her head closer and kisses her on her forehead.

He is startled to note she is fully awake.

« You know, » she says against his neck, « if you want us to have sex your hands are _definitively_ not on the right place. »

He smiles a little, not surprised to feel her lips against his jaw, and rolls over her to fix this infamy.

 


	7. Nightmare (Arya & Jon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes in the canon universe. Arya is about 6 years old and Jon 11. Bran and Rickon are not born yet and they don't have the wolves.

The halls of Winterfell at night were a scary place for a little girl. Arya clutched her doll against her chest as she crossed them, eyeing anxiously the ceilings, so high they were disappearing into darkness. She jumped every time the wind howled, fearing it to be the growl of the monsters Old Nan told her stories about.

She hastened her steps. When she had woken up from her nightmare, shaking and terrified, she had thought it would be a good idea to go seek shelter in her brother's room but she wasn't so sure anymore. She had been afraid of the shadows in her chambers but they were nothing compared to these ones.

Luckily, she started to recognize the hall where Robb's rooms were. Usually when she had a nightmare, it was towards her father's she would go but he and mother had left for some lord's marriage and let the ruling of Winterfell into the hands of Maester Luwin. He was kind but she doubted he would appreciate to be woken up in the middle of the night, even by her. Robb wouldn't mind though.

Finally, she reached his door. She was almost too small to reach the doorknob but she pulled yourself on her tiptoes and turned it with the tip of her fingers. The panel creaked when she pushed it. Inside the room, she could see the high bed and the sleeping form of her brother. He was laid onto it, arms and legs spread, his mouth wide open. She crept closer, until her eyes were on the same level as his head.

« Robb, » she whispered.

A snort escaped him but it was the only thing she got from him. She tried to shake his shoulder but he only groaned and rolled out of her reach. She stood motionless, downhearted. Tears prickled her eyes. She didn't want to go back to her room. And Sansa wouldn't take her with her, she knew it. Ever since she had gotten her own chamber, she refused to sleep with her because « it was for babies ». Arya wasn't a baby, but she missed sleeping with somebody. Sometimes they had even shared the same bed ; but that was before.

She walked out of the room, careful not to make any noise. She had resigned herself to come back to her bed when the idea popped up in her head. She knew where she could go. It was a little far, but she really, _really_ didn't want to be alone.

She trotted about for a while in the stony halls. The moonlight, even if it made scary shadows on the walls, was enough for her to find her way, and she finally arrived in front of a great wooden door. It seemed very heavy, but luckily it was ajar. She pushed it and slid into the room.

« Jon... »

Contrary to Robb he slept quietly, with his face sunk into his pillow. She had to shake his arm to wake him.

« Jon ! »

« Uh ? What ? » His eyes snapped open, confused. He fumbled a little before his eyes fell on her.

« Arya ? What are you doing here ? What aren't you in your bed ? »

Shamefully, she felt her eyes grow wet again. He was right, what was she doing here ? She shouldn't bother him. He was eleven, he would have grown-up things to do in the morning, and he would be tired because of her. She was being a coward. Starks weren't cowards. She should go back to her room and leave him alone.

« I had a nightmare, » she confessed, lowering her gaze to her feet and clutching her doll nervously. « I was scared so I wanted to sleep with you. But it was stupid and I am stupid, so I'll leave you alone. Sorry I woke you up. »

She turned to go to the door but his voice stopped her.

« Wait, » he said. He was fully awake now – it made her feel worse – and leaning on his left arm. « you did all the way from your room to mine ? Alone ? »

She nodded. He hesitated, and Arya was sure he would reprimand her or mock her ; but he only crawled backwards and patted the mattress.

« Come. »

Beaming, she ran and jumped towards him. Jon pulled up the furs on them and wrapped his arms around her.

« But we're sleeping now, » he warned her – but he took out the harshness of his words by mussing her hair and kissing her temple.

Maybe that was why she liked him so much. Jon never mocked her or told her that she was being a baby ; he simply accepted her and let her do what she wanted.

She enjoyed the warmth of his body, its safety. She knew her half- no, her _brother_ would protect her from the monsters.

 


	8. Gymnophoria (Arya x Gendry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pompt written with the constraint "undress with eyes".
> 
> This takes place in a semi-canon AU where the 5 years time-gap would have happened. Arya would have crossed the way of the BHWB on her way back to Winterfell and travelled with them for a little while (I guess she would be 16…?). On their way they would have stopped at Acorn Halls !
> 
> (A little bit M-ratured)

He could see from his spot on the bench that she was uncomfortable. That was plain for everyone, in fact. She kept wriggling like she had a bunch of nettles under her bodice, and her face when she thought no one was watching was priceless.

Lady Smallwood had insisted she wears a dress and Arya liked her enough to allow it – but it was with clear reluctance. She had complained that she looked stupid, that she wasn't like her sister and that dresses didn't fit her, but at the end their host had stated that it would please her and Arya had finally complied.

Gendry would beg to disagree though. She didn't look stupid and dresses _definitively_ fitted her. This one was simple but nice, blue with some touches of silver on the collar that brought out the grey of her eyes. It looked nothing like the ridiculous thing she had worn years ago, even if he had liked it as well. In fact, _she_ looked nothing like the skinny little thing of years ago. What had been a wild, boyish and yet strangely cute creature had grown into a woman of surpassing loveliness. She wouldn't pass for a boy now even if she tried. Her face had lost all its baby fat and her features were as ciseled as ice, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Her eyes were a strange thing. They could turn as soft as a fog or as hard as stone whether she talked to a friend or an enemy, but they always kept this gleam like she knew things that no other in the world knew – or should know.

But shamefully, he had to admit her eyes weren't what he was looking at tonight. Her face wasn't the only thing that had blossomed over the years, and her body had grown enough to keep him awake (and ashing) at night. Her legs were longer, her hips wider and her breasts fully filled her bodice now. Her collar was pretty low and, despite all her attempts to pull it up, it gave a nice view of her charms to his eyes. Infortunately, he wasn't the only one enjoying it. He had heard some lads from the Brotherhood say comments that would have maid a whore blush, and Ned Dayne had gaped at her until she gave him a thwack behind the head.

He wondered why he hadn't noticed them until now. When she had appeared again in his life, he had been so happy he hadn't really focused on something else than her presence. Or maybe it was because of the awfully large shirts she wore – that things could hide an entire arsenal, which was probably the point. But now that dress was a torture, both hiding and revealing her curves, making him ache to not know what was underneath when it was so desesperatly close.

For a while he let his imagination wander. In his dreams he wasn't a bastard and she wasn't a princess, and he could have her in every ways. In his dreams they were alone in this room and he would stand up and go to her, would caress her neck with the tip of his fingers and rip her dress out of his way. She would let out a gasp but she wouldn't protest. He would cup her breasts in his hands, his big clumsy hands that had known nothing else but metal and hard labor, would feel their softness under the calluses of his fingers. His thumbs would come to tease her nipples and he would watch her squirm and whine under them ; and when she wouldn't take it anymore, he would remove and replace them with his mouth. In his dreams he would grab her ass and squeeze it hard enough to leave a mark, enough to let the world know she belongs to him (or he to her ?). In his dreams she would kiss him back and would never let anything stand between them.

But he was only a bastard and she was a princess, and these were only dreams. Nothing more.

 


	9. Summer Snow (Arya & Bran)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _She scooped up a handful of snow and squeezed it between her fingers. Heavy and wet, the snow packed easily. Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing._ " Sansa, ASOS
> 
> This is the same memory, but from Arya and Bran's POV. Enjoy !

« Are you ready ? »

« I've waited for this all my life. Let's do it. »

« OK. So I'm going on the roof and you... »

« Wait. Why would _you_ go on the roof ? »

« Because I came with the idea first ! »

« So ? I'm you elder, I get the better spot. »

« No you don't. Besides, you couldn't even climb there. »

« Yes I could, stupid ! »

« No you can't ! You can't even climb the Maester's Turret. »

« That's… OK, you can have the roof. »

« Let's go then- »

« Wait ! Where do I go ? »

« I don't know Arya ! Find a place ! »

« That's easy for you to say, you took the better spot ! »

« If you wanted it, why didn't you thought about it first ! »

« I was to busy thinking how I will kick your ass after ! »

« Yeah, right. As if you... Wait, shit, they have finished. Septa Mordane is in the stairs, which means Sansa will be out soon. You have your munitions ? »

« Of course I do, stupid. What do you think this is ? »

« The rest of your melted brain ? »

« You- she's coming ! I'm going near the stables. »

The two children split. The yard kept silent for a few minutes, until a pretty red-haired girl came out of the keep. She walked a few steps when suddenly, a dozen snowballs hit her.

« Aaah ! Stop it Bran ! … Arya ! » shrieked Sansa.

When she saw where her sister was perched, she started to run towards her. Arya hopped from her barrel and ran into the stables, laughing.

 


	10. Brush (Ned & Sansa)

He was going to be late. For once Ned – who usually was the first one up - hadn't woken up in time, and it wouldn't have been important if he hadn't a meeting with the Greatjons this morning. They had arrived the night before, but as tired as they were they had agreed to postpone it for today. And now, it was Ned who was late.

He was lacing up his boots when he glimpsed a red lightning rushing toward him.

« Father ! »

He whirled, caught the creature about the waist and lifted her in the air. Sansa laughed happily in his arms. At four, his daughter was a little ball of energy, sometimes to the distress of Catelyn that wanted her to be softer. Ned reckoned she had all the time to be soft, and if she couldn't be reckless now he didn't know when.

He kissed her on the cheek and she giggled, throwing her tiny arms around his neck.

« Had a good night sweetie ? »

She nodded vigorously, and started chatting about her dreams.

« I dreamed of Florian Father ! Of Florian and Jonquil, only it wasn't Jonquil but it was me, and I was trapped in a dungeon by a monster but he came and killed it and freed me ! And after I was his princess, and we lived in his castle with plenty of children, and I was happy forever ! »

He listened, faking an interested look on his face but he couldn't help but think he was running out of time. But suddenly his daughter became quiet, looking at him with an expectant look in her eyes. He knew what she wanted.

« Father, may I do your braid today ? »

This had become their routine. Every morning she would come to his chambers, brush his hair and do his braid for the day. Her first results had been terrible – he actually looked like a bird had nested in his hair - , but that made her so happy he had let her do it again, despite the japes of his wife. But Sansa was a fast learner, and today she managed to do it perfectly.

Infortunaly he was in too much of a hurry to allow them this luxury, and he feared to offense the Greatjons if he stayed any longer. He put her back on the floor, ran a hand in her hair and apologized.

« I'm sorry Sansa, but not today. I have a meeting. Tomorrow, I promess. »

It broke his heart to see the hope in her eyes be replaced by sadness. To her credit Sansa didn't cried, although her lower lip was slightly shaking. She went back to a more composed posture, her hands clasped together, the very image of her mother. She avoided his gaze.

« I understand Father. I'm sorry if I had bothered you. »

She was so piteous-looking that Ned couldn't help but kneel and take her in his arms.

« Of course you don't, sweetheart. I'm just busy this morning, that's all. »

She sniffled in his jerkin but she nodded. He was less strong though, and to see her so sad made his will snap.

« What do you think you go get that brush and we do that very quickly ? » he whispered softly in her ear.

She drew back, incredulous, but her face lighted up when she understood his words.

« Yes ! Oh thank you Father ! »

She planted a kiss on his cheek and bolted to his desk. She had to push on her tiptoes to reach its top, but she managed to grab the brush.

He went to sit on the edge on his bed, waiting for her to slide it in his hair. The Greatjons were surely growing restless, but he thought that his daughter's smile was worth a few annoyed scowls.

 


	11. Little Girl (Arya & Jon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU where they're older (I imagine Arya being 24 and Jon 29)

« You drive too fast ! »

« I'm not driving too fast Jon, it's your brain that works too slow. »

« Ha ha, very funny. Now slow down a little, would you ? I'd like to get in the store in one piece, thanks. »

Arya sighed, then slightly removed her feet off the accelerator.

« You know, I'd never thought I would find somebody more annoying than Dad when he lend me his car, but there you are. Life is full of surprises. »

« Eh, I remind you that it's is my car, that I'm lending you graciously, and so if anything happens to her it's on me. So I'll appreciate if we arrived alive and whole. »

« Her ? » scoffed his sister, shooting him a mocking look. « So what, it's a girl ? What's her little name ? » she teased, leaning towards him as if to pinch his cheek.

He swatted her fingers away before he yelled :

« Keep your eyes on the road ! »

She sighed again and went back to the road. Jon knew he was overreacting – Arya was a good driver with good reflexes, and they were alone – but this car was his baby. He had paid it with his first job, without their father's help despite him offering, and he was taking great care of it. Arya may be a good driver but way too careless to his taste.

They were talking about Robb's wedding (and mocking his new tuxedo) when Jon noticed they were heading towards the exit at a speed too high.

« Arya, we're supposed to take this one. We'll miss it but there is another one... »

« What ? Shit ! » she swore.

She hit the brakes and wildly turned the wheel. Jon could only grip his seat tight while images of his childhood (including a very embarassing event including porn and a bad-locked door) passed before his eyes.

« What the hell Arya ! I said I wanted to stay alive ! »

« Sorry, » she said without any ounce of remorse. « I was going to miss the exit. »

« There was another one two miles after ! The store doesn't deserve my death ! » he bellowed, his heart still pounding widly in his chest.

« Oh relax, » she said with an impatient flick of her fingers. « It's not like... »

But she stopped talking as a siren suddenly rang out.

« Shit, » she swore again when she saw the cop car following them.

She pulled away and shut down the vehicle.

« Well thanks Arya, » Jon said with his most sarcastic voice. « Thanks to you I'm... What are you doing ? »

She had opened two buttons of her shirt, allowing more cleveage to be seen than Jon was comfortable with ; she was now undoing her ponytail and running her fingers into her hair.

« Getting us out of here. Now be quiet ! » she commanded as the cop was getting close.

She lowered the window and said in a very different voice that Jon was used to :

« Hello officer. Did I do something wrong ? »

The man, pretty young but still far too old for her leaned towards her.

« Hi miss, » he answered, his eyes lingering on her breasts far more longer than Jon liked – even if it was only for a second. « You were driving twenty miles above the limit and you forgot your indicator when you turned. »

« Really ? Oh, I'm so sorry, » she purred. « I wasn't paying attention and I almost missed the exit, so I reacted instinctively. You must know what it is, isn't it officer ? »

Jon choked. Who was that creature besides him and what had she done with his sister ? Because it couldn't be Arya, the girl that saw boys as opponents in a fight or who would eat the most burritos in a row. His sister didn't know men could be used for others means. She didn't know how to flirt, how to play with her hair or throw looks under her eyelashes. No, his sister was noble and pure and _little_.

The cop asked for Arya's licence. Jon took the occasion of her searching through her bag to shoot a murdering look at the man but she pinched his thigh with enough force to make him yelp. She threw him a warning look, then handed the paper. The cop barely looked at it before he gave it back.

« Fine, everything looks in order. Be careful next time. »

« I will, I promess, » she said with a dazing smile.

Jon waited to be out of earshot to explode.

« What was that ??? »

« That my friend, » she answered as she looked in the mirror, « is how I escaped thirty-seven tickets. »

« But the fl-flirting and the voice and... »

Arya looked at him straight in the eyes. A smile slowly flowered on her lips. She didn't said anything but he could feel her say « _Oh little fool_ ».

Maybe Jon prefered when she was a little girl after all.


	12. Shameless (Sansa & Arya)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Stark Sisters feelings for the day !

« Mom's gonna kill you. »

« I know. »

« She's gonna be so pissed. She's used to it with me, but from you... »

« I KNOW okay ? Stop enjoying this so much Arya. I feel bad enough without you rubbing salt into the wound. »

Arya went back to the road, but Sansa could see the little smile threatening to blossom on the corner of her lips. They drove a few minutes in an absolute silence, that Arya broke in a soft voice, exempt of any of her previous mischief.

« So... You're gonna tell me what happened ? »

Sansa stayed silent a little longer, pondering if she should speak of it or shut it and bury it forever. She was so _ashamed_. It wasn't her to loose her cool like that. No, that was Arya's specialty - although she had learnt to temper her emotions recently (meaning that instead of kicking right away she waited to be sure the blow would be the most hard). But Sansa, Sansa never lost her composure. She was famous for it in fact, something that made her mother proud. It wasn't something good girls did.

But the words had been so infuriating...

Sansa looked at her sister. She was keeping her eyes on the road, waiting for an answer, but she knew she wouldn't push it if she didn't want to talk. But, Sansa thought dimly, who else would understand better ?

« I was with Margaery, » she started reluctantly. « We were in the yard with her cousins. You remember them ? Alla, Elinor and Megga ? Nevermind, » she said as Arya shook her head, a (bovin) look in her eyes. « Anyway, they were talking about boys. At one point the discussion diverted on... Joffrey... (Arya made a face) and Megga started to say she didn't believe he was such a bad guy. I... may have retorted a little curtly that he was a jerk, and she basically implied that it was me that started the rumors and I was only pissed that he dumped me. The conversation became heated and then I... »

« Lost your shit ? » suggested Arya maliciously.

« … became angry. The next thing I know is I started hitting her, and we were fighting when you arrived. »

When Arya saw what she was up to, she had jumped in the fight to pull them apart – her seven years training in martial arts made it easy for her – and she pushed her away from Megga. Sansa was unrecognizable, shouting words she shouldn't have known, and Arya was half-laughing as she pulled her away. However her mirth died when Megga started to threaten Sansa. She had turned to her and said in her iciest voice - the one that looked very much like their father's :

« That's enough. You had fun the both of you, but if you go further you'll have to deal with me – and I guarantee you don't want to. Is that clear ? »

Megga had nodded, still furious but she knew her sister's reputation. Then Margaery took her cousin by the arm, promising to deal with her.

Things could have stopped there if a supervisor hadn't showed up at this moment. He saw Arya holding her and pushing her away, Margaery tugging at Megga's arm and sent them all to the provisor's office. Arya's name was quickly cleared (surprisingly, as Professor Selmy said, for once she wasn't the one in trouble) and she was sent outside. Sansa however got to stay a little longer. Her perfect record and behavior prevented an expelling, but she still got a stern lecture about how fighting wasn't tolerated in the establishment and next time he wouldn't be so kind. She still was expelled for the day though and he would have a talk with her parents.

Sansa had rarely been lectured - she was usually the one that did everything right – so she was almost in tears when she left the office. She found her sister sitting there, waiting for her, and they left the school together.

« Well well well, it seems like Miss Perfect starts to run wild, » exclaimed Arya, smacking her thigh as she said so.

Sansa shot her a dark look, but Arya only wriggled her eyebrows and said :

« About time. »

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tired to see Sansa being always the good girl and do everything right, so for once she's the one that messes things up ! =p
> 
> By the way, if you guys have some ideas or prompts you'd wish I do, just say it in the comments and I'll do my best !


	13. Date (Arya/Aegon)

Taking Arya Stark on a date was a tricky thing. First you had to ask the girl, and this was already dangerous because she wasn't the kind to swoon over these things. Like the sigil of her father's compagny, she could bite really hard.

(When Aegon had asked, he actually thought she might actually do it – but then she gave him an « okay » and went back to pick her books in her locker. That was the longest conversation they had ever had.)

Once at her home you had to be careful not to get eaten by the pack of ~~wolves~~ dogs in the backyard. Especially the one with the golden eyes and the grey fur. Twice as big as her siblings and nasty enough to make any guy give up – infortunaly, if you were like him far too infatuated to even consider the option, well you were screwed.

(But seriously, who had six dogs in his house ? No wait, who had six _huge husky beasts_ in his house ???)

Then if you were still in one piece you had to pass the Stark brood, with their nice smiles and their eyes screaming « We'll hurt you very bad if you harm her ». Her brothers were big and scary and there were four of them, but it wasn't what he was the most afraid of. He had thought her sister would be softer, sweet Sansa with the flower in her braid and her perfect nails and composure. But when he thought about it, he reflected that she might actually be the worse.

(But all this vanished when Arya appeared down the stairs, so pretty it had made his knees flinch.)

When you finally got her out of the house (with the curfew of her mother and a last murderous glare from her dark-haired brother) and nervousness would overwhelm you, she would pass right past you and settle in your car like if she had done it a thousand times. Of course you'd stay where you were with your mouth open like a retarded parrot, and she would throw you a look saying « Well ? I'm waiting now. »

(But she had given him a hot look as she walked, so...

 

Wait, was it one ?)

In the car you wouldn't talk at first, because you would be too anxious to do the first move and she – God only knows what she would think. But just when you'd think it was getting out of hand she would turn to you and ask you random questions about you, your life and if whether or not the « Faceless Men » was the coolest band on Earth.

(He would say no, but with this dress she could make him say he was a moron and be enthusiastic about it.)

Then you would arrive at the restaurant – from the Reach, because everybody loved cooking from the Reach – and before you had time to get outside she would have already opened the door herself and got out.

(After months of dating he still wasn't fast enough to open her door.)

The meal would go great but you would feel shy and hesitant, sometimes even stuttering (a thing that _never_ happened. Aegon was usually confident with girls but something about Arya Stark made him loose his mind). You could tell she was a little tense at first, but she would loosen up and you would talk and discover you had quite a lot in common (among them your disdain for fancy parties, an extreme case of stubborness and an inexplicable passion for kung-fu movies). The meal would pass in a blink of an eye and you would discover that, under her airs of grumpy wolf she was clever, quick-witted and so irrevocably funny.

The dessert would arrive, and unlike other girls she would take the triple waffle with chocolate topping and enough whipped cream to make her catch diabetes in one bite.

 

The dessert always was Aegon's favourite part of a date, because it was where he unleashed his powers of seduction – or brainwashing like his sister called them.

He leaned towards her, careful not to get his sleeve too close to the candle – it happened once – and with his most languid voice he asked, eyes closed and mouth open :

« Can I have a taste ? »

It was one of his favourites moves. The girl would feed him a piece of her dessert, then when she would draw it back he would grab her hand, kiss her fingers and say « Actually, I think I prefer this one. » That was cheesy but combined with his special « under-the-lashes » glare and crooked smirk, it worked everytime.

Arya didn't even look at him.

« No way. It's too good. If you want some then order another. »

Or not.

When time to get her back arrived, they paid the bill (she had insisted to pay her part, which wasn't a good omen in Aegon's experience) and returned home in quite a heavy silence. He brought her back to the door, struggling to find words but unable to find something that did not sounded lame.

Arya resolved the problem when she put her hands against his chest, pushed him against the wall and gave him a long hard kiss. It took him a few second to catch what was happening (Rhaenys always said the retarded parrot was his spirit animal) but then he slid his arms around her back and waist and answered eagerly. Her heels made her almost as tall as him, so she was at the perfect height.

« That was fun, » she said after. « We should do that again. But I'll choose, » she added seriously. « I don't like cooking from the Reach. »

« Really ? I thought everyone loved it. »

« Not me. I prefer Dornish meals. It's spicier and so much _hotter_ , » she whispered as she grazed her teeth along his ear.

He knew he had a stupid smile on his face, but nothing in the world could have make it disappear.

« Oh, and maybe next time you'll get to meet my Dad, » she said as she planted a last kiss on his lips.

After that he thought nothing would keep him to date Arya Stark. However, when he went to pick her up the next day and her dad opened the door – Eddard Stark, CEO of the Stark compagny and one big man, all muscles and stony glares – he thought he may have to hang on a little longer.

 


	14. Proposal (Arya x Aegon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For madaboutasoiaf.

« I'm not doing that. »

« Come on Arya. We've talked about this. You know my family isn't super warm about us living together without being married. »

« Since when do you care about what your family thinks ? »

« I don't, but my dad is harrassing me day and night with that. He's running for another mandate and he thinks his own son living in sin doesn't fit his values. »

« Rhaegar didn't strike me as the religious type. »

« He's not, but a lot of his followers are. Most of them are there for his « family campaign », and he's always done what he could to please them. »

« Sure, and Jon is a living testimony of that. »

Aegon frowned but said nothing. Lyanna Stark was still a sensitive subject, even between them, and it wouldn't serve his cause if he angered her before broaching his point.

They were curled together on the couch, her small frame cuddled up against his own. The TV was still on, the movie that had their attention only minutes before still rolling but neither of them cared about it now.

« I don't know why you're so stubborn about not being married. We've been together for five years now. It's expected of us. I'm sure your mother would be thrilled about it. » _Her father less so_ , he thought.

« I don't want to get married because I don't believe a dumb ceremony can somehow « validate » us. I love you, I don't need to spend ten thousands bucks to prove it. » She turned a little, her body leaning a bit away from his. Her stormy grey eyes locked with his. « What's going on ? Since the day I've met you you've never cared about what your family wanted. Now you tell me you want to make a life-changing decision because of what they think ? »

He missed the warmth of her body, so he pulled her close again until her head rested on the crook of his neck. She let him do, placing a small kiss as he stroke her hair.

« I care a little about my family's opinion, » he muttered.

« Aegon, you dyed your hair blue because it would piss off your grandfather. We've met in Essos _especially_ because study there would piss off your father. Since the day I met you you spent an awful amount of time pissing them off. So don't use the family card okay ? Now spit it out. »

He stayed silent for a while, playing with a strand of her hair, keeping her face in his neck so she would not see his.

« I want to marry you. »

« Yeah, I know, we've been talking about that for fifteen minutes. »

« No, I mean... I _want_ to marry you. Not because of my father but because I really do. »

She rose her face, confused.

« But... I thought you hated it as much as I do. »

« I did at first... But now I think it wouldn't be so bad. I love you Arya. I want to show it to the world, even if you're content with only us. I want your name associated with mine. I want you to be mine and mine alone. »

She didn't go angry like he expected her to, but started to laugh instead.

« Is that what this is about ? You want to « mark » me ? Are you going to pee on me after that ? »

He flushed bright red, turning to hide his embarassment ; but he would not go back on his words. They were possessive and dumb and medievalish, but they were true.

Arya never let him be embarassed without taking advantage of it. She enjoyed his shame, always taking the occasion to tease or mock him ; so she took him by surprise when she kissed him deeply.

« I would lie if I said I have not thought of that too, » she confessed.

That baffled him.

« What ? » she said defensively. « I'm a wolf. You're _my_ mate. I thought it was clear enough without having to marry, but if you need a reminder... And I would finally have a legitimate reason to kick Jeyne Poole's ass next time she flirts with you. »

He laughed.

« Never kept you to do so before ! »

They stayed silent for a while, content with each other, thinking of possibilities. She was drawing patterns on his chest with her fingers and he was toying with her hair ; ultimately, Arya broke the silence.

« We're doing it then ? » she whispered.

« I believe we do. »

He kissed her deeply, languidly, and when their mouths teared off she added :

« Besides, I heard it's better for the child when his parents are married. »

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That must be the lamest and less romantic proposal EVER, but Arya doesn't strike me as the romantic type anyway !


	15. It was meant to happen (Catelyn x Jaime)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this story stuck in my head when I woke up so here

It's not like she had wanted it to happen. Or maybe she did. Unintentionally. Not with _him_ necessarily, but it was meant to happen one day or another.

She hadn't that in mind when she goes to Lysa's birthday. Her sister has decided to throw her party in a bar – Catelyn had learned long ago that her sister wishes her compagny less because she loves her than to rub in her face her social life, something she finds ridiculous because she needs not to do that, because Lysa has so many qualities, and what is she expecting of her ? To be jealous ? – and often she had declined her invitations, but today she needs it, to have fun, to be drunk, because Brandon had been cheating again and he thinks she doesn't know but she _always_ knows. The only woman Brandon has ever been faithful to is his sister, sweet, beloved Lyanna that looks so much like him in heart and face, passionate Lyanna who only loves the wrong guys. How many times had she woken up to her calling him in the middle of the night, and he went to pick her up and she ended on their couch ?

But Brandon shows no such devotion to her. He is still kind and funny, but he has grown tired of her and she can smell on his clothes when he goes home the perfume of other souls like her who thought they mattered, that they were more to him than a distraction but they are not. But today she is so _tired_ of his shit, tired of being the dutiful girlfriend, the dutiful daughter, and all she wants is to forget about him, forget herself into the depth of her glass.

She has been drinking more than usual, because the usual is her being sober enough to drive everyone home after, especially Edmure who holds his drink like a five years old and Lysa who drinks like a russian sailor, and her sister has shrieked to see her so wild and keeps refilling her glass. She bumps into him when she tries to buy another beer at the bar, where he sits alone and seemingly sad - but she can't bring herself to care for once. She remembers him from highschool, the famous Jaime Lannister, the youngest quaterback in the history of the team, the better half of the Golden Twins. She has never talked to him – he was always stuck with his sister, Cersei, who was in total honesty kind of a bitch so she had kept her distance. She knows Lysa has kind of a crush on him, and she also knows it is a doomed one because he had never so much as glanced at her, and she thinks it's for the best because her father would love them dating but look at where that got her.

She doesn't know when or how she starts talking to him, why she laughs when he tells a not that funny joke, how she admires the way his hair shine under the low light, how she plays with her own when he talks, how manly and ciseled his jaw is. She doesn't know either when they leave the bar together and when he brings her to his place, how they end up kissing and moaning. She only knows that for a few hours she is free, her mind focused on her and her alone.

She wakes up at ten a.m the next day – that's new too, she always has something to do at this hour usually. It takes her some time to recall where she is, with who, and she wonders if she can take a shower before she leaves. Jaime is still there, naked as his name day, his head casually resting on his arm but he doesn't look at her. She notices how handsome he is – how could she not ? - but also how sad and far away his eyes are, and she wonders if sleeping with her was his way to run away from his reality, and she should be offended but she's not because hadn't she done the same thing ?

She gets out of bed, her nudity modestly covered by the sheet. Somewhere in her mind a voice tells her it's ridiculous because what has he not seen ? But that moment has passed, and they both have no intention to continue this affair so really, it would be improper. She's about to go to the bathroom when his voice stops her :

« Maybe it would be... best if we kept this night for us, don't you think ? »

Right. She is Brandon's girlfriend, she recalls ; but somehow, she doesn't think protecting their relationship is what matters to Jaime. So she only nods and goes take that freaking shower.

When she comes back, fresh and neat like nothing had happened, her phone buzzes. When she glances at it she sees it's from Eddard - no, Ned -, Brandon's little brother, who probably wants to know about the surprise party they are throwing for his brother next week. She likes him. He is nice and intelligent, even cute if you like the dark, shy type.

Really, she should have gone after someone like him, she thinks as she hurries out of the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was right after Cersei got married with Robert, so that's why Jaime was sad if you ever wonder.


	16. Spicing things up in the bedroom (Arya x Gendry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following a tumblr prompt with this subject. Obviously NSFW. Enjoy !

« Oh come on ! There's no way a woman would go into battle dressed like that. »

Indifferent to Arya's yell, the far-too-undressed-for-a-battle heroine of the movie they were watching got into a deep speech about bravery and solidarity to motivate the troops for the upcoming battle, for which they were outnumbered but that they would win anyway because they were the good guys. Arya sighed, annoyed, and put her head back on his shoulder. Gendry gave her a comforting pat on the hair then went back to thread his fingers in them and stuff himself full with popcorn.

It was a Saturday night, and like good lazy people they had chosen to stay at home rather than go into a bar or * _shudders_ ***** a club. For once the house was empty : Rickon, poor thing, was spending the night with Stannis Baratheon – officialy with his daughter, but everyone knew there was no way Stannis would let Shireen alone with him - ; Bran was at the Reeds for a zombie movies marathon, Sansa was spending the night at Margaery Tyrell's and Jon, Robb and Theon were probably drinking their weight in beer in town. Arya's parents were originally meant to stay but Ned's friend Robert had ''invited'' them for dinner – in the way he had to make an invitation sound like a command – so Gendry had been summoned to come over and entertain Arya. He wondered if he would still be allowed to set foot into the house if Ned Stark knew how he ''entertained'' his daughter, often in a way that involved less clothes than he would be comfortable with.

However, Catelyn's absence also meant no obligation to eat healthy food, so Arya had ordered the most greasy, salty and sugar-coated things she could find on the menu, borrowed a film from her brother's collection and waited for Gendry to arrive. They were now tightly pressed together, his fingers in her hair and her hand on his belly, laying in the middle of what looked like the room of a five years-old left alone with his crop of Halloween candies.

Arya's fingers were running slowly on his body, drawing patterns between his abs, absentely toying with the hem of his shirt. When she tired of watching the girl pretend to fight, her lips found her way on his jaw, then his neck, and soon she found herself cupping his crotch through his jeans while he kissed her senseless. She climbed on his lap without breaking the kiss, the fire in her loins rising as his hands sneaked under her shirt and on her breasts. When he started toying with her nipple, pinching and circling and rubbing, she retaliated by grinding against his clothed cock, the friction making them both gasp and moan.

« Too much clothes, » Gendry panted, after a hard thrust that had made his eyes roll inside his head.

She took her shirt off, and while he worked her bra off she slid out of her pants and underwears in one go. She made her way down kissing his now bare chest until his pants made an unbearable barrier, so she simply took them off. His cock was hard and wet and red from confinement, and while Gendry was rummaging through her drawer to find a condom, she made her best to make it up for it.

« Huum, Arya ? » she heard suddenly. « What's that ? »

She rose her eyes to find him hold a pair of handcuffs bordered with pink fur. It took her a while to realize what it was, but when she did she flushed a deep red and jumped up to snatch them. It didn't work, though, as Gendry pinned her against his body while holding them out of her reach. Sometimes she hated his freakish strenght.

« Give them back ! »

« I didn't know you were into BDSM, » he teased, his stupid grin spreading across his face. « Very _Fifty Shades of Grey_. »

« I'm not ! It was Lyanna's gift for my birthday. I had forgotten they were here. Now can you put them back and take care of me please ? My parents won't be out all night ! »

She tried to kiss him but he seemed thoughtful, with his pained expression that meant he was thinking too much. Then, without warning, he flipped her under him and cuffed her to the headboard.

« What are you doing ? » she screeched.

« Isn't it obvious ? » he said hovering above her, taking in the sight of her naked.

« Set me free ! »

« I don't think so. See, this little talk of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ gave me some ideas. »

She stayed quiet, pondering.

« What are you thinking of ? »

« That, my dear, is entirely up to me. »

He took the shirt that had fallen on the ground. He threw an interrogative look at Arya, who seemed torn between indignation and curiosity ; ultimately the curiosity won and she nodded. He tied the fabric around her head, blocking her view. She was completely blind now, which made her quiver with anticipation and annoyed at the same time. She didn't like being at someone mercy.

They had never done that before. Gendry was as eager as her but she liked to take charge in their lovemaking, and he liked to let her. She was usually the first to kiss, the first to undress, the first to come. Their embraces were quick but intense – they didn't have very much of a choice since Arya still lived at her parents's home and his apartment was... less than ideal. This would be a first.

Arya was waiting and waiting but nothing was coming - literally. Ultimately she snapped.

« What are you waiting for, stupid ? » she growled. « Hurry up and get done with it ! »

Gendry chuckled. It was very much like her, his little she-wolf, who couldn't wait two seconds for something she wanted. But he had no intention to obey. It was too rare, seeing her like this, hot and craving for his touch, and he had every intention to take advantage of it.

« I don't think so, » he whispered in her ear, careful not to touch her anywhere else. « I'm going to make it very, very slow, and in the end you'll beg me to take you and fuck you hard. »

Arya scoffed. _Yeah, like that would happen_ , she thought.

But she had to admit, it was interesting that way. Not being able to see was adding a whole new level of perception. Each breath made her shudder in anticipation, each move made her wonder where it would land. Her imagination was working fast, and each fantasy made her a little warmer at her core. She felt him shift and she held her breath.

She gasped when she felt his lips close around her nipple. She moaned loudly, her hips bucking against his thigh, as his hand went to take care of the neglected breast. His tongue was circling it, slowly, too slow. She whined, gasped, panted, but all her innuendos were lost – either that or he deliberately ignored them. When she heard him chuckle against her skin, she knew he was doing it on purpose. Bastard.

Finally his hand and mouth left her breasts, and Arya was sure he was going down to business but the first started wandering her whole body, while the other ran up her collarbone, her neck and ended capturing her lips. Even there he wouldn't quicken the pace, kissing her languidly, coaxing her impatience into suavity. She was beginning to enjoy it : his slowness may be infuriating, but it also created a whole new bunch of sensations she usually passed over in her haste. Of course he chose this moment to push his fingers inside of her, and all she wanted was him getting faster but he kept his quiet pace, alterning between her folds and her clit. She started to buck her hips in a feeble attempt to make him know her mind.

It did work, for a time. Gendry seemed finally determined to please her ; he played with her until the knot in her belly became tighter and tighter, on the verge of exploding... and then he stopped.

« Gendry ! » she whined, half protesting, half pleading.

She couldn't help it. She refused to beg but it would only take a slight flip of his fingers to make her come. Instead he withdrew them.

« Yes ? » he purred, clearly enjoying this. « Do you have something to tell me ? »

Arya chewed on her lips, torn between her pride and her lust. But no. She was stronger than that.

« No. »

« I guess I can move on then. »

She opened her mouth to protest but she felt his big hands slide under her and turn her over, so she was lying on her belly. Her hands were twisted painfully, but she managed to shift them in a better position. He pulled her on her knees, so her chest was pressing against the mattress but her ass was up in the air. She was feeling so vulnerable, but so aroused at the same time. She couldn't decide which was winning.

« Still nothing to say ? » he asked, his fingers running along her folds.

She stayed obstinately silent, but when she felt his tongue at her cunt it tore a cry out of her throat. The first flick of his tongue against her clit made her grip the sheets so tight she feared she might rip them apart, and when he ran it along her slit she let out what looked suspiciously like a sob. Arya's head was becoming dizzy. It was almost too much, the pleasure, the stubble on his cheeks scratching her skin, his hands gripping her hips so hard they would be bruised tomorrow. At one point he slid a finger inside of her, but as she expected him to continue he just held him there.

« Gendry... »

This time her voice sounded pleading, but she couldn't care less. All that mattered was that he made her release come, and come fast because she didn't know how much she could handle and her wrists were aching as she struggled to set them free, to touch Gendry and give him a taste of his own medicine but she _couldn't_.

« Beg me, » he commanded, his voice hoarse and full of lust.

She hesitated. It was a whole new side of her boyfriend she discovered... and she couldn't say she disliked it. He usually let her do as she pleased, sexually as well as in real life. She liked to be the dominant one in their relationship (without stepping on him of course), but she had never thought about whether or not he would like to be it sometimes. She wondered, a little bit ashamed, if she was curbing his wants.

« Beg me or I stop. »

He was starting to withdraw his finger, and despite her stupid ego, she knew she couldn't let him.

« Fine ! » she snapped. « I'm begging you Gendry. I want you to fuck me plea– »

His lips cut her. She moaned into his mouth when he thrusted into her, his eagerness showing he was as, if not more aroused than herself.

« Good girl, » he teased, but before she could scowl he had straightened and was poundind relentessly into her. She came almost instantly, for she had been on the verge before, and it didn't take long for him either. Afterwards they lied down for a while, him on her back, still fully sheated inside her.

« You're heavy, » she complained later, when they had both regained their breathes.

He shifted off her and started working her free of the handcuffs. He then noticed the red on the steel.

« You're harmed ! » he exclaimed, worried.

Arya, who had been laying with her head in the pillow, seemed to regain consciousness. Her wrists were marked with several superficial cuts. She had pulled and twisted so hard she had cut herself. Well, it had been worth it.

« Oh, that... It's nothing. »

« But– »

She silenced him with a kiss.

« It's nothing, I said. »

She pulled him to her and snuggled in his arms.

« So, did you like it ? »

« What ? »

« The President's new tax policy. Fucking me stupid. »

« When don't I ? »

« Oh, bite me. You know this time was different. »

« In what ? »

« In you... you know... taking charge. »

« What do you mean ? I'm always taking charge. »

« Yeah right. Usually you lie down on your back and let me do all the work. »

« But you love to do all the work. »

« Maybe. But... » She hesitated. « Does that bother you ? Are you unsatisfied and you don't want to tell me because you love me ? »

Gendry smiled. He gave her a soft kiss.

« I'm plenty satisfied. I like when I take charge, or when you take charge, but I know you _love_ taking charge, and I like you to do so. Did I say '' _taking charge_ '' too much ? »

« A little. »

They ended watching the end of the movie, as the girl reunited with her one true love and engaged in a particulary energetic last kiss.

« And you... Did you... did you like it ? »

« No. »

His hopeful expression fell.

« I loved it. »

« You... »

He tickled her, making her squirm and laugh in punishment, and kissed her deep. In the back of her head, Arya made a mental note to thank Lyanna Mormont for her gift.

 


	17. He is everything she warned her against (Arya/Gendry, Arya & Ned)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For GendryandAryabelongtogether.
> 
> "Can you do a modern AU where Gendry is a "badboy" and arya is his girlfriend and Ned finds out ?" 
> 
> Sure I can.

Her mother would be _furious_ if she knew.

He is everything she warned her against. Poor, from a bad neighbourhood, dark and handsome, so very handsome. “ _Handsome men don't make good husbands_ ,” she told her and Sansa throughout the years. Arya had believed her at first, but not anymore, not now that she knows her mother thinks about Uncle Brandon when she says that, and she knows he was a dick to her but it would be stupid and reductive to conclude that all men are like that.

Because yes, Gendry comes from Flea Bottom, and he isn't as rich as her family – but then, who is ? - and he didn't go to a fancy college like she does. His arms are covered in tattoos, and when he rides his motorcycle he looks like he is about to dive into battle. But he is also kind and clever in his own way. He makes her laugh and smile and sigh, and his absence is both a relief and a heartbreak, because when they are together every moment seems to burn her inside, because it's too much, too strong... but when they are apart she is only longing for him and the feel of his hands back on her.

She loves him because he makes her feel beautiful – something that _never_ happens. When he meets Sansa – the only one who knows about them, and the only one who'll say nothing because if there is somebody who knows how important love is, how a bad man can break you, it's her - his eyes don't constantly flick to her as if checking if such beauty is real, like all of Arya's previous boyfriends did. He looks at her with awe, almost never leaving her from his sight, as if he was afraid she could disappear at any moment ; and she would be annoyed if she didn't feel the same way about him.

She knows her mother would prefer her with a proper boy from the same social background, someone polite, destined to lead a big company one day, someone who never had to work hard to get what he wants. She keeps pushing her to Edric Dayne, sweet Ned that will never be anything else than a good friend. But Arya needs someone to match her fire, someone who will keep up with her but also quench her when she needs to be. And Gendry does.

Yes, she knows her mother won't approve of them one bit. But she never thought about how her father would react.

* * *

It wasn't her fault, really. He only had to call first after all. That would have avoided him a very distressing sight, and her a deeply embarrassing moment. But Ned Stark didn't call before he went to visit her in her dorm, and barely knocked before opening the door of her room – thus finding his daughter half-naked on the lap of an equally undressed Gendry.

There was a moment of pure confusion, followed by panic mixed with embarrassment. She scrambled off him, her fingers shaking in her haste to button her shirt – thank god it was the only thing she had taken off – while her father modestly kept his eyes on the picture of her dog Nymeria. When the silence became too hard to bear, she took his arm and led him to the cafeteria downstairs, hoping that Gendry will take advantage of that time to leave (but also hoping he won't).

And now she sits on one of the high stools, fascinated by the cup of tepid cappuccino in front of her, while her father studies her with unnerving eyes. He hasn't said a word since he ordered his coffee – black, tight, no sugar nor cream – and that was twenty minutes ago. She feels like she is eight years old again, after she did a bad thing she isn't willing to admit, but he knows she did anyway.

She knows she has done nothing wrong. She is eighteen years old, not eight, and she is fully free to date whomever she wants. She knows her father has nothing to say in the matter ; she doesn't think the big show of the overprotective dad threatening to harm his precious daughter's boyfriend is funny, because a father shouldn't be concerned about being the only man in his daughter's life but rather make sure she has a blooming relationship with someone good.

But she also knows he is very protective of her, twice more because of what happened with Lyanna, and thrice more since Sansa and Joffrey. She hasn't given him cause to worry much before – all her previous boyfriends were tools, really – but it is different with Gendry, and maybe he is feeling that. Maybe dads have a weird instinct for when their daughters leave their arms to another's.

Or maybe he is just gathering strength for what will be the biggest lesson of her life.

But when she finally raises her eyes, he does not look angry or reproachful. Instead there is a sadness in his face she hasn't seen before.

“Are you okay ?” she tries more hesitantly than she would like.

He doesn't answer, but his hand comes to rub his face, a gesture he does when he doesn't know what to do with her. She cannot help but feel bad. She hates to disappoint her father, and even though she cannot live her life the way he would have her do so, her heart breaks when she sees his tired look.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers.

He looks surprised, suddenly.

“For what ?”

“I don't know.”

And she doesn't. But she thinks it is a thing he would like to hear.

He sighs, putting his head in his hands before answering :

“No, it is me that am sorry. I should have called before. I guess I just didn't expect... that.”

“Neither did I dad.”

“And who is this boy ? You haven't introduced him.”

“Well I would have had, but you kind of arrived in the middle of something,” she said, a little amused by the half disgusted look on his face. “His name is Gendry. He comes from Flea Bottom,” she adds to end his misery.

He raises an eyebrow at the mention of the bad neighbourhood – one of the worst, really – but holds his tongue, and Arya loves him even more for that.

“And what is he doing ? Is he in college or-”

“Look dad, we don't have to do that now.”

He looks obviously relieved. She guesses the chock from seeing his daughter half naked in the arms of her boyfriend _might_  make it a little too hard to care about said boyfriend right now. They finish their drinks silently, but it is not the awkward silence from earlier. Arya is neatly folding her napkin when he speaks again.

“Does he... Does he make you happy ?” he asks in a quiet voice, and she knows that it is what he really cares about, not where he comes from or what is his last name.

She smiles.

“More than I could have ever imagined.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking care of the other prompts, don't worry about it.


End file.
